Tarnished Halos
by annieoakley1
Summary: A fic that follows the FBI presentation for the possible season four, but much more Logan/Veronica-centric. Warning- character death.
1. Chapter 1

The harsh blare from an interrupted line jolted him awake, and he bolted upright in his reclined seat, fumbling sleepily at the control panel to lower the volume. Beeping, static, silence. He stared at the display in confusion, his thoughts still muddled from his nap. He yawned, rubbing his eyes, and then set about to find the problem and fix it.

"KEITH!"

Sudden banging on the back passenger side door punctuated the frantic call, and Keith rushed to unlock it and slide it open.

"We gotta go! He knows!" There was a large cut above Vinnie's eye, and blood seeped from the wound and trailed down the side of his face before catching on the collar of his torn shirt. Keith reached out instinctively to help him get in the van.

He heard the first gunshot and then felt Vinnie sag against him, and the second shot rang out as Keith struggled with the weight from the body.

Everything went black.

~~Ten Months Later~~

Logan wiped at the corners of his bleary eyes as he shuffled barefoot to the main room. His head throbbed and stomach ached, but he was admittedly impressed by how well he held up after a night of hard drinking. It'd been years since he'd hit the bottle like that, and he had been anticipating a much worse hangover than the one he was battling against now.

He settled in on the couch, kicking his feet up on the coffee table and reaching for the remote at his side. Yet another day of _what now?_ Maybe he'd order room service, or maybe he'd go back to bed. Maybe he'd catch up on the morning news first. Hell, he could do whatever he wanted; it was _his_ call, _his_ dime. _He_ wasn't the one saddled with a new wife and a baby on the way. (He still couldn't quite believe it- God help them all, Dick Casablancas was procreating.) Nope, Logan answered to no one but himself. Or the call of the waves. Or a call from his wayward best friend, asking him to come to Vegas for wedding number three, swearing that this one was going to stick.

He didn't want to remember the night before. There was something about Las Vegas that did more of a number on his stomach than the Jack Daniels he had consumed. It had hit him sometime after the dinner, when he looked over at Dick and saw that the guy was genuinely happy and moving forward. The room felt smaller then, the collar of his dress shirt a little too tight, and he knew he had to get out. So he turned down a tempting offer from the maid of honor, said his goodbyes and bid his good wishes to Mr. and Mrs. Casablancas, and then called a cab to take him straight to the airport. He caught the first available flight to LA, where he booked a suite at the Sunset Regent and hit the room's mini bar until he passed out on the bed, his shoes off, tie on.

Now it was the morning after and he was in the same position as he was the night before, but this time he had to deal with it sober.

He flipped on the television and surfed through a bunch of channels, his eyes on the screen but his mind somewhere else entirely. He should have known better than to come back to LA. It was too close, and it always brought up memories of things best forgotten.

He settled on one of the local news channels, tossed the controller aside, and reached for the phone to order room service. He didn't want to have to wait, so he opted for cold cereal, sure his stomach could handle it.

The Fruit Loops arrived some time after the weather report, and Logan shoveled large spoonfuls in his mouth as he absently watched the highlight reels from the previous night's Lakers game. It was just starting to get easier to zone out, to dodge those close-calls with introspection.

He was on his last bite when he saw her on the screen, and he nearly choked in surprise, the milk dribbling down his chin. He sat the bowl down, swiped at his mouth with the back of his hand, and leaned forward in his seat as he turned up the volume on the television. The news camera angled to Veronica's somber face, hidden beneath large sunglasses, as she walked out of the courthouse.

"_FBI Agent Veronica Mars pleaded not guilty this morning at her Los Angeles arraignment. The Agent was charged earlier this week with multiple counts, including conspiracy and illegally accessing FBI computers for personal use. Mars is the daughter of slain private detective Keith Mars, who was found murdered last May along with Balboa County Sheriff Vinnie Van Lowe._

_Agent Mars is currently being held on a $25,000 bail._"

*************

"Have you considered my advice?" Cliff asked while he shuffled through his stack of papers.

Veronica exhaled slowly as she rubbed at her forehead. It had been a long day. "And what advice was that?"

"Get a better lawyer?"

She managed a weary smile but it never reached her eyes. "Oh c'mon, Cliff, I'm sure you've handled plenty of cases just like this."

He smirked at her as he reached over to open his briefcase, and it reminded her of years before, during a time when her biggest worry was Sheriff Lamb and is impenetrable grudge.

"If you're going to insist on my expertise," he said, growing serious, "then I think you should probably be as honest with me as possible."

Veronica tensed, her jaw set. "Full disclosure?" She sighed. "I'm not keeping anything from you."

"I know it's easy to confuse my boyish good looks with naivety, Vee, but give me some credit here. They're _pissed_ and coming at you with everything they've got, so what exactly did you do to ruffle so many Fed feathers?"

"It's the Bureau. They're sticklers for the rules, and…maybe I broke a couple. What makes you think they'd go easy on me?"

"I never expected them to go easy on you, but you haven't talked to the prosecutors. They're fully prepared for a blood bath if this goes to trial, and I get the _distinct_ feeling that they might just have a case."

She sat back in her seat and folded her arms across her chest, and Cliff rolled his eyes at her defensiveness. "If you take a plea bargain and resign," he told her, "you'll probably just get a slap on the wrist. Probation, maybe a reasonable fine. No jail time." He slid his briefcase aside and rested his elbows on the table, leaning in to stare Veronica down. "But if you want to fight this, and you _lose_, you're looking at a year in prison."

She remained quiet, but the tension radiating from her was nearly palpable.

Veronica had never thought it would come to this. On her first official day as a Fed, as she walked in and flashed her badge, the click-clack from her high-heels echoing throughout the building, she'd thought she had arrived. She thought she could finally do what she did best on the level _with_ the best, and that everything that had ever happened to her before was just the stepping stone. A new Veronica was reborn that day. She was a professional, no-frills, no-bullshit Fed who was playing with the big boys.

Then, six months later, they found Keith's body. And nothing was ever going to be the same for her again.

"How about some good news?" Cliff asked, tapping his pen against the table.

Veronica shook herself from her thoughts and looked up, her mouth open in surprise. Good news didn't exist anymore.

"What's that?"

"You must have a guardian angel or something, kid, because this morning I had twenty five grand deposited into my personal account. I was booking my cruise to the Caribbean when I got the anonymous instruction to use the money to bail you out." He tossed the pen in her direction. "But if you're still feeling stubborn, I'm sure I could catch a flight later tonight."

She caught the pen under her palm and rolled it against the wood surface, a tentative smile brightening her face. "So I'm free to go?"

"Yeah," he sighed in mock disappointment. "And I guess I'm free to get back to work." He stood from the table and gathered his suit jacket and briefcase. "Need a ride home?"

The prosecution and the judge hadn't gone easy on her, so Veronica had been prepared to spend a few nights in a cell. Now she was so relieved by the idea of getting out that she didn't even question the mystery behind the bail money. She stood to follow Cliff, the malaise melting away with each step she took toward the door. She walked alongside him down the hallway, but they both stopped short at the sight of Logan leaning against the wall near another interrogation room.

"Your guardian angel?" Cliff asked, turning to Veronica with a raised brow.

She ignored him, her eyes on Logan and his eyes on her. Cliff looked back and forth between the two, growing uncomfortable with the intensity, but he remained quiet. Finally able to break the hold, Logan pushed away from the concrete and straightened his body, nodding his head in Cliff's direction even though his eyes remained locked with Veronica's.

"Good to see you, Cliff," he told him as he continued to study his ex. Veronica tried to cover her shock with anger, her expression darkening as she looked back at Logan, who finally gave in and diverted his attention to the lawyer. "I started to worry that you might take the money and run off to the Caribbean or something."

"Way to underestimate me," he volleyed, turning to look at Veronica. "Should I go?"

"Huh?" she asked, her attention returning slowly. She realized his question and shook her head adamantly. "You're supposed to drive me home."

"I got it," Logan declared solidly, watching her for a reaction. He had to stop himself from grinning when her head whipped back in his direction, her eyes narrowing as she stared him down.

"Oh goody," Cliff said, moving away from them. "Now I can leave you two to the awkwardness and still hit the McDonald's drive-thru before the lunch rush. It must be my lucky day." He looked back over his shoulder at Veronica, who was now looking down at the floor as she awkwardly shuffled her feet. "Call me if you need anything," he told her seriously.

"How…are you?" Logan asked once they were alone. She glared at him but he could already tell that the fight in her was fading.

"Peachy keen," she bit, and he smiled, shrugging his shoulders to let her know that he was fully aware of the stupidity of that question.

"Well, since you're a free woman now, you want to grab a cup of coffee or something?"

"What are you doing here, Logan?" she asked, cutting through the pretenses.

"I'm asking you to have some coffee with me. Is that allowed?"

"No." She folded her arms across her chest, ducking her head as she tried to pass by him to leave, but Logan grabbed her gently by the elbow and propelled her around to face him.

"It's just coffee, Veronica," he said, but she pulled away from him and turned. She kept walking, so he went for the big guns. "Even you should be able to keep your hands off of me long enough for some coffee."

She stopped, and even with a view of just the back of her head, Logan knew two things: she was fuming, and he had won.

*******

Veronica agreed to coffee, but only if she got to decide where they went, so Logan followed her directions and pulled his rental car into the one empty space in the crowded parking lot. The hotspot, called Ray's, was just outside of LA, and Logan was about to ask Veronica what made this place so special when she hurriedly unbuckled her seatbelt and hopped out of the car.

"Wait up!" he said, jogging to catch up with her. He stood beside her at the door, watching her curiously as she took a deep breath before entering.

The small restaurant/coffee bar was crammed full of people, most dressed in business attire as they chatted over lunch and coffee. Logan observed the area from the entry way, and Veronica took a cautious step forward, her eyes scanning the room. He studied her, recognizing the way she stood a little straighter, her shoulders back and head held high. It was as if she was throwing a challenge out to the room, daring anyone to say something to her, to even try and cut her down. Suddenly he was reminded of a young girl in a white dress, and then things started to make sense. It was an FBI hangout spot. Of course.

"So should we get a table?" he asked. She didn't answer him, her eyes still trained ahead. She seemed confused by the lack of response to her, like she had been expecting some sort of melee upon her arrival and now she didn't know how to react to being ignored. Logan broke away from her, moving to a seat at a corner table, knowing she would follow him when she was ready.

She did, a minute later. He sat expectantly, waiting for her to say something first, but he was met with cold silence and a hard stare.

He decided to break the ice when she didn't, so he rested his elbows on the table and stared back at her with a tight smile. "Come here often?"

She rolled her eyes, her tongue pressed against the back of her teeth, something she used to do when she was really pissed. And Logan had plenty of experience with that.

He waited for a response, fully prepared to kill her with patience if that was what it took. Her nervous hands were tearing at the napkin wrapped around the silverware in front of her, and Logan watched her with a mixture of confusion and concern. She seemed off kilter, thrumming with anxious energy, and it was _showing_. Veronica rarely showed vulnerability to anyone, and now she was stripped bare in a room full of people she'd probably call the enemy. Logan included.

"What are you doing in LA?" she finally asked, her eyes not quite meeting his, her hands still pulling at paper.

"Personal business," he replied succinctly, expecting her to prod.

She didn't, much to his disappointment. Veronica turned in her seat to look for a waitress, and Logan pressed at his temple with his fingertips, trying to work away the remnants of his hangover headache.

"Too loud in here for you?" she asked, facing him again. It was an absurd question; the place was busy but nobody spoke above a hushed whisper, just as nobody dared to put their elbows on the table or slouch in their seat. But Veronica wasn't asking out of concern.

His fingers moved to his hair, and he scratched his scalp while he pinned her with a sardonic smile. Sure, he'd bite. "Maybe I drank a little too much last night," he admitted, daring her to react just how he expected.

She didn't disappoint. "Ah, surprise, surprise. And here I thought that you actually meant it when you said that you had changed."

"I never said I gave up drinking," he returned, his mood darkening. "Everyone's allowed a hangover every now and then."

"Not in the FBI," she replied haughtily.

"I'm sure you follow all of their rules to a T, right?"

Veronica pushed back her chair, twisting around again to crane her neck as she continued her search for a waitress, an obvious bid to ignore Logan's ribbing. But he could see her mouth curve into a salacious smile in spite of herself, and he hated how hot it made him.

"I mean, it's not like you're being formally charged with rule breaking or anything."

"Innocent until proven guilty."

"Well it's good to know that still holds up for some people, huh?"

She met his eyes for a brief moment before looking away, her lips pursed. Logan had the higher ground here, and Veronica didn't want to tread. "So are you living in LA now or what?"

"Don't sound so thrilled by the prospect."

"Why would I be?"

She dug her fingernails into her palm, frustrated by his answering smirk. Surely he couldn't believe that she'd want him back. Not after how he left. Not after everything that happened. He was probably just trying to get under her skin again, she reasoned. That was the only thing he ever had any follow-through on, anyway.

"I'm just passing through. I was in Vegas for Dick's wedding."

"Dick got married?" she asked, her lip curled in disbelief.

"Dick's going to be a daddy."

She shook her head, falling further back in her seat. "Well, that's almost enough to make you appreciate forced sterilization."

Logan chuckled. "Yeah, I know." He sighed as he looked around the room. "The service here blows, by the way."

Her small smile helped relax him and he took it as a sign that she was starting to relent a little. "So you're still friends with Dick?"

"Don't hold Dick against me." Truth was Logan didn't have many people in his life. Dick had his issues, but he had proven himself a solid friend, and that wasn't something Logan took lightly. He was going to ask her about Wallace and Mac, but he knew enough and thought better of it.

"It's easy to lose touch with people after school," she said softly, and he nodded, a bit sad for her.

"Veronica?"

They both looked up to see a blond-haired man about their age standing beside the table. He was dressed in a suit and tie, FBI credentials hanging around his neck. Logan's eyes went to Veronica, who seemed taken aback by the man's presence. "Seth. Hey."

Seth shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his hands on his hips. "I've heard about what's going on. I'm really sorry that you're going through this now." He ignored Logan, his attention focused solely on Veronica. "I'm not sure what I could do, but if you ever need-"

"Thanks, but I can handle it."

"Yeah, okay," he said, nodding. "But my offer stands."

"I appreciate it," she told him, but Logan could tell that she seemed most interested in getting this guy to leave. Her eyes darted downward nervously, so Logan took the opportunity to introduce himself. "Hey," he broke in, offering his hand. "I'm Logan."

"Seth Fox. Nice to meet you." Seth's palm slid against his, and Logan, never one to back down from a challenge, held the other man's stare.

"I was just passing through, getting some coffee to go."

"Well we won't keep you," Veronica spoke up, a tight smile on her face.

"Eh, there's no rush. I'm just pushing a lot of paperwork today. I was dealing with a fifteen-year-old murder witness all last week so I'm taking it easy now."

If it were another place and another time, Veronica would have taken the opportunity to joke about paperwork being the easy route, but she couldn't muster the energy now. But she noticed the way Logan's jaw tensed at the mention of the young witness, and she wondered what he was thinking or remembering. "That's too bad about the teenager," she said, casting a sideways glance in Seth's direction. "I hope you were easy on the kid." Seth had a bit of a reputation as a hard-ass; Veronica always thought he came across as somebody who watched too much _Law & Order_ growing up and was acting less on instinct and more for show. He was the quintessential Agent.

"I wouldn't go so far to call him a kid," he replied. "These teens today, they've probably seen more than either of us."

That was a subtle reminder of how little he really knew about her, she thought. But Logan still seemed agitated, and she noticed how he had his tongue pressed against the back of his teeth, something he started to do when he was really pissed. And Veronica had plenty of experience with that.

"They're still just kids."

Veronica threw a look his direction, telling him without words to not get too riled up. "Logan used to work with a lot of underprivileged or high-risk children," she said, by way of explanation. She wondered if either of them picked up on the hint of pride in her voice, despite her accurate use of the past tense.

Seth nodded again animatedly, but she could tell he had already checked out of the conversation. "I really should get going," he told them, motioning toward the barista who still hadn't looked their way in the more than fifteen minutes they'd been seated.

They exchanged simple pleasantries before he left, and once he was out of earshot, Logan turned to her with a raised brow. "So, how long did you two date?"

He didn't seem to buy her scoffing laughter, so she gave in. "A few weeks, back at the Academy. Not one of my best moments."

He grinned back at her, loving the predictability of it all. "Now why would you ever let that one go?"

She looked down at her hands, the small smile falling away from her face. "Actually, I dumped him for you."

************

"Well, thanks for lunch. And, you know, the bail." She shrugged awkwardly, her back to her door. He was invading her personal space again, a hairbreadth away, his bright eyes shining as he watched her plan her escape.

"No problem."

She turned away, her keys in her hand, but she froze when she felt his arm brush against hers. He was leaning against the frame, his arm above his head, and it made her feel as if she was trapped between him and the door. "Thanks again," she managed once she turned the key. She didn't know what else to say, so she slipped into her apartment and shut the door behind her.

Logan straightened at the sound of the door slamming in his face, and he stared at her apartment number, confused and a little hurt by her failure to even invite him in. But why should he have expected any different? Especially with the way things were left between them the last time…

He walked away, promising himself that he was _really_ walking away this time, for good. He had tried to be there for her, tried to do what he could to help her, but it only ever ended in his own heartache, and he was done. If she wanted to hold his leaving against him, after all they had been through, then that was her prerogative. He couldn't control her actions, only his _reactions_. That had been his advice to others, so maybe it was time he started listening to himself.

He was halfway down her hall when he spun around, decided, and marched to her door. If she wanted to stay away, fine, but he didn't want to leave things the way they were; he didn't want her to think that he deserted her like so many others. He knocked and waited. Then he knocked again. He rolled his eyes, pounding against the wood with the side of his fist. "C'mon, Veronica, I know you're in there. I want to talk for a minute."

When there was no response, he turned the doorknob, finding it unlocked. "Veronica?" he called, poking his head inside to check on her. He swung the door wide open and walked through, taking in the surroundings. A couple of chairs were overturned in the living room, and the drawers from the tables and bureaus hung open, various papers scattered all around. Logan marched through the kitchen, searching for her worriedly. "Veronica?"

She was in her bedroom, staring in open-mouthed shock at the mess surrounding her. "Are you okay?" he asked, coming to stand beside her, his hand at her shoulder. She nodded and he steered her out of the room. "You shouldn't stay here."

"I'm sure it's fine," she managed, swallowing thickly. "There's nobody here."

Logan looked over at the small kitchen table, where a glass of orange juice and a mug had been knocked over. The liquids pooled together on the surface, and dried coffee stains marked the wood. "They've probably been gone for a few hours," he told her, leading her to the door. "But I want you to come back to my hotel."

"No, really." She pulled away from him and headed toward the living room, intent on cleaning up.

"Come on," he pressed. "It'll give us the chance to catch up. I think there's a lot we need to talk about."

Veronica half-heard his words, but her attention was on the picture frame at her feet, and she knelt to pick it up. Her father's smile stared back at her from behind the web of broken glass. It was a photo of them together on the day she graduated from the Academy.

She really didn't want to be alone tonight, and now she was too tired to fight that feeling. She looked up at him and exhaled softly, her shoulders slumping in resignation. "Fine. Let's go."

*************

He handed her a t-shirt and pair of sweats from his suitcase. He knew she'd probably drown in them, but she had nothing else to sleep in after he rushed her out of her apartment without a second thought toward an overnight bag. She took the proffered clothing but stayed silent. She'd been quiet for awhile. For two people who were supposed to talk, they had both spent a lot of time not speaking.

"Do you have any idea who could have broken in?" he finally asked.

She shook her head, her hands clutching the cotton shirt. "Whoever it was…they were looking for something. I don't think they took anything, though."

"How did they get in?"

She shrugged. There weren't any signs of forced entry, and they locked the door behind them, despite leaving a mess for her to find. Maybe they were in a hurry, whoever it was.

"It might have been someone from the Bureau," she said after a moment, common sense finally catching up to her. She sighed, setting the pile of clothes beside her. "They probably had a warrant. It's nothing to worry about." And now she had no excuse to stay. "There's no reason for me not to go home." She moved to stand, but he held up his hand in protest.

"_Stay_." It wasn't a command, but a broken plea.

She nodded, much to his surprise, and so he took the initiative to sit next to her on the edge of the bed. "What do they have against you, Veronica?" he asked, referring to the Feds. "What'd you do?"

He could hear her soft exhale and he inched closer to her, his elbow bumping against hers. She flinched at the contact. "Veronica?"

"I was…I was looking into info about the Fitzpatricks. It wasn't a case, so everything I did using their resources…they're willing to charge me."

The Fitzpatricks. He had blissfully forgotten all about them. But after all of those years in Neptune, he had more psychologically damaging memories to haunt him.

"What about them?"

She worried her bottom lip as he watched her. Her hesitation gave him an excuse to study her. Veronica's hair was longer now, falling down to the middle of her back, but she still looked the same as she had when they were in college. But neither of them looked much like grownups. He imagined that she made up for her youthful appearance with her wardrobe for the Bureau; he tried to picture her in a stylish pantsuit, the credentials hanging around her neck like they had around Seth's, but she still looked like Veronica to him. _His_ Veronica.

"I think they had something to do with my father and Vinnie's deaths."

He looked up, his face twisting in confusion. "I thought it was ruled a drive-by."

The pain was still fresh and she grimaced at the flash of images that accompanied his words. "They were in a surveillance van, Logan. I'd bet anything they were tracking the Fitzpatricks."

"What makes you so sure? I mean, was there any evidence?"

She shook her head but remained adamant. "But they could have taken all of that. They wouldn't have left anything behind."

"Why would they have left…" he trailed off, not wanting to seem insensitive but not sure how else to word his question. "Why would they have left the bodies there?"

"Because," she said, her voice growing stronger, "they could get away with it. You said so yourself, it was ruled a drive-by. Liam Fitzpatrick has a habit of getting off for anything."

He still didn't understand. "Why them? How do you know it was them?"

"I'm only sure about Liam," she explained. "And…there are lots of reasons."

He waited expectantly for her to elaborate. "Vinnie was working with him, for _years_. It's one of the main reasons he got elected."

"But why would Liam kill him if they worked together?"

"Because Vinnie was helping my dad? I don't know, maybe Vinnie grew a conscience or something. Stranger things have happened. If he and my dad were working together to put him away, and Liam found out?"

Logan nodded, understanding. He wanted to reach out and touch her hand, to do anything to try and comfort her. He knew how hard it was for her to talk about her father. He saw firsthand how badly she handled his death.

"They were shot with a M1911," she added, looking up to meet his eyes. "A .45 caliber handgun. And I know that Liam had a Colt just like that. I saw it myself, in his glove compartment, _years_ ago. He would have killed my dad with it then if he had the chance." She sighed again, her head down. "I know they're not the rarest guns, but I just…I _know_ he was behind it, Logan. I'm sure of it."

He didn't need much more convincing beyond that. "But the Feds should have helped you build a case around this. You shouldn't have had to go off on your own."

"I didn't trust anyone else," she admitted with a shrug. "Liam's served some time, but nothing compared to what he should have been doing. Every time a case was brought against him, something would happen to make it all fall apart. Witnesses would recant or just outright disappear, evidence would be lost. It was a mess. But when I put him away," she said, turning to him, fire in her eyes, "he's done. It's for good."

"What about Carter?" he asked suddenly, surprising even himself. _Might as well follow through_, he thought, the question already out there. "You don't trust Carter to help you out?"

"What the hell do you know about Carter?" Her words were harsher than her tone.

He looked down at the bedspread, unable to meet her eyes. He couldn't help but think back to that time. Veronica had been inconsolable, and he had spent six days at her side, holding her while she cried, pulling her hair back while she vomited, promising her he wouldn't leave. It had been months since they saw each other before that, but he couldn't stay away after he heard the news. He watched her at the cemetery as he stood propped against an old oak tree, his eyes only on her as she stared off into space while her father was being lowered into the ground. They weren't on the best of terms, but he vowed that he'd be there for her just as she was there for him when he needed her the most. She had collapsed in his arms after the funeral, and while he cradled her against him, he realized how wrong he was to leave her the first time.

Six days.

And then Carter showed up on day seven. A fucking _week_ later and he showed up, telling Logan that he was Veronica's partner and that he'd handle it from there.

He let his insecurity get the best of him that day. He took one look at the guy and all of his greatest fears were realized. Here was the male version of Veronica, the one who could measure up to her in ways he never could. This person was a part of her life now, a life that didn't include Logan.

So he left. He argued with Carter first (and every part of Logan might have told him to fight more), but in the end, he left.

He left.

"He's your partner. I assumed you guys were together, the way he talked. I-"

"What? Wait, when did you talk to Carter?"

He sighed. "Before I left. He told me he was there to take care of you and that I should go. So…I went."

He could see the realization dawning on her face. Truthfully, he was surprised the C-word hadn't come up sooner. Where the hell was Carter now? Why wasn't he the one to post bail? Logan could admit it- he loved Veronica. He always would. But he didn't have the stomach to be a placeholder until perfect FBI guy decided to show and step up to the fucking plate.

"Carter's dead, Logan." She took a deep breath, threading her fingers together nervously. "And we…we were never _together_."

"He's dead?"

"Yeah," she whispered, nodding sadly. "He was shot a couple of months ago, during a sting operation." It still hurt to think about losing another colleague (and Callie Farmer's death still replayed in her nightmares, another part of the never ending rotation of all things that continued to haunt her). But a piece of her was angry with him now for his role in Logan leaving. Carter probably thought he could handle her with that psych-babble-bullshit. Give her a week to grieve and then set her straight. She could still hear him: "It's going to hurt. It'll always hurt. But you're not the one who died, Veronica. So you have to decide to live."

Logan held her in silence. He let her cry.

_"You're not angry with me. You're angry with your father for dying. You're projecting."_

Logan let her fight him. He took her weak punches until she fell against him, exhausted. He let her scream.

He might have had his faults, but he was always there for her when she needed him the most, and now it was hard to not resent Carter for playing a part in sending him away. Joshua Carter was a weak substitute for Logan. Anyone would be.

"I'm sorry," he told her, and it was a loaded apology. _I'm sorry you lost your partner. I'm _really_ sorry I left you._

She watched him for a minute, her eyes lingering on his lips, but she forced herself to snap out of it. Things were complicated enough for her already.

"I should get to sleep. I have to meet Cliff and the prosecuting attorney tomorrow morning, and it's been a really long day."

"It's not even seven yet. Don't you want some dinner?" He stood from the bed, following her as she trudged to the bathroom.

"No, I can't. I shouldn't. I should…I need some sleep."

Logan sighed as he ran a hand through his hair, but he gave in. "Then I'll take the couch. And I'll pick up some stuff for you tomorrow from your apartment. I really think you should stay here until you figure things out."

She spun around to face him, resting her back against the countertop. He was close, but not too close. "I'm not sure that's a good idea."

His dark eyes bore into hers, and even in her state of mind, she had to admit to herself that if things weren't so complicated, she might have been tempted to kiss him. "Well, I am," he told her, backing away. He left the bathroom to give her some privacy, closing the door behind him, and she released the breath she'd been unconsciously holding for the last thirty seconds.

She removed her blazer and hung it on a nearby hook. As she was unbuttoning her blouse, she looked up and caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror above the sink. She looked like hell, her eyes tired and makeup a mess. She wiped at her smudged mascara with shaky fingers, and suddenly she felt so overwhelmed it was hard to stand. She gasped for air as she leaned against the ceramic tile, her head down as she concentrated on breathing. One deep breath. Two. Breathe. Just breathe.

As her heart rate returned to normal, she lifted her eyes and dared herself to look at what she had become. She stared back at herself, everything else in the background fading to black.

God, what the hell had she gotten into now?


	2. Chapter 2

~~Sixteen Months Earlier~~

_"Hey, this joint is classy. Check out that wine list- $36 a bottle." His low whistle was barely audible in the crowded restaurant, but he lowered his menu to sneak a glimpse of her reaction. Nothing. The grin fell away from his face, but he was ready to try again. "What do you say we splurge tonight? Maybe I'll even let you have a glass."_

_She was still sullen as she perused the entrées. "I've been legal for over two years," she sighed, and it lacked the teasing spark that usually accompanied their banter. Now Keith was starting to get concerned. It was bad enough when she ignored the dessert cart on the way to their table, but to not put up any fight at all when he tried to play the dad card? And on the eve of her big day?_

_"What's wrong, Veronica?"_

_She lowered the menu and shook her head, doing her best to force a smile. "Nothing. I'm just tired."_

_"Veronica," he repeated warningly._

_She pursed her lips thoughtfully, her eyes meeting his for the first time since they were seated. "Can I…talk to you about something?"_

_"That's why I'm here," he said, relaxing a little and picking up his menu again._

_"It's about Logan."_

_He repressed a groan, deciding instead to play the part of an attentive and loving father who wasn't going to ridicule his daughter's choice in men, no matter how tempting it might be._

_So what was it this time? Were they back together again? Were they breaking up again? Keith had stopped trying to keep track a while ago. Dammit, he _knew_ this was coming the minute Veronica told him that Logan had an internship in D.C._

_"What about Logan?"_

_"I don't know what to do anymore! He got accepted into three really great graduate programs already and then today he tells me that he's not going."_

_"That's really his decision, honey. You can't control his life." There it was, his sage fatherly advice. They could move on now, maybe discuss what to order as an appetizer._

_But the look on Veronica's face stopped him cold. He hated to see her looking so sad, especially the night before her graduation. He'd be damned if he was going to let Logan ruin that moment for her._

_"He was doing so well, you know? I really thought he found something to make him happy."_

_Keith sighed, not appreciating the part of him that could empathize with Logan. "It's not easy, Veronica. Seeing those kinds of things, being helpless to really do anything about it most of the time…it's not for everyone."_

_"But it's better than doing nothing!"_

_He shook his head, memories from his years as a cop all coming back to him. A pang of regret hit him suddenly when he realized that Veronica was setting herself up for a life just like that. Sure, she would have more authority than Keith ever did, but she would be exposed to the worst sides of people, much worse than anything in Neptune, and she'd have to play by the rules this time or risk losing it all. And those rules weren't always so easy to follow, especially for someone as headstrong as his daughter._

_"He's young. Not everyone knows what they want to do with the rest of their lives when they're 23."_

_Veronica slumped down in her seat, clearly annoyed, and Keith could tell that he wasn't saying what she wanted to hear._

_"What do _you_ want him to do? Work at a job where he's miserable for the rest of his life?"_

_"No," she pouted. "But he could at least go to school. Anything's better than bumming around at the beach all day."_

_Keith studied her with a raised brow. She certainly seemed invested in Logan's future, and he wondered if that was because she pictured herself as being a large part of it. He thought about those graduate programs Logan was accepted to already. Veronica hadn't been assigned to a city yet, but Keith was willing to bet that Logan had applied to enough schools to cover his bases._

_"We got into a fight about it," she admitted with a slight shrug. "I told him not to come tomorrow, and he said he was going to fly back to Neptune then."_

_She wanted him there, Keith realized. Probably as much as he wanted to be there. "Why don't you call him? Tell him you can talk about everything else later, but that he should be at the ceremony."_

_"I can't."_

_"Do you want _me_ to call him?" He smiled at the look of horror on Veronica's face at the mere suggestion. Part of him wanted to make a joke about how he had better learn how to deal with Logan now because it didn't seem like the kid would be gone for long, but that would probably upset Veronica in at least three different ways. Besides, her foot was within kicking distance of his shin._

_"How about the fried ravioli?" she suggested, retreating first._

_Keith nodded and glanced up to look at his little girl, who was by no means a little girl anymore. "You know I'll always be there, though, right?" he asked her seriously. She might not be able to depend on any other man in her life, but she needed to know she would always have her father._

_"I know," she said, and she smiled genuinely for the first time that night._

************

"You're looking bright-eyed and bushy-tailed this morning," Cliff said, taking in her exhausted appearance. "Weren't you wearing that yesterday?"

Veronica glowered at his amusement. "Don't."

"Hey, I'm a lawyer, not a judge." He turned away from her, heading toward the conference room, and she followed alongside him. "Speaking of judges, we're not meeting with one today. This is a one-on-one with the prosecuting attorney, so you can explore your options. I recommend that exploring."

"How'd you manage that?" she asked, taking a seat in the office chair next to his.

"I took him out last night. I wined him, dined him, and regaled him with some of my stories. After all that, he was _very_ receptive."

"Ah," she nodded. "So did you also buy him a lap dance while you were at The Body Shop?"

"Skin's, kid. You're in _a lot_ of trouble."

They both shut up as Greg Burgess, the other attorney, entered the room. He acknowledged Veronica with a curt nod and then smiled brightly at Cliff before taking his seat.

"So shall we play _Let's Make a Deal_?" he asked, grinning.

Veronica looked over at Cliff, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. He threw a look of warning her way so she settled in and smiled politely, much to her chagrin.

"It's a good one, Veronica. All we want is a guilty plea and your resignation, and we can make all of this go away."

"Probation?" she questioned, and he nodded.

"For how long?"

"A year, which is nothing when you consider the circumstances, and fines, but not anything too excessive."

She looked over at Cliff, who was jotting something down on a yellow legal pad. "Could I go back to PI work?" she asked.

The prosecutor shook his head. "Your license would be revoked, along with your resignation. But I think that's pretty reasonable."

"So what am I supposed to do with the rest of my life, then?"

He smiled, flipping through a stack of papers in front of him. "Enjoy it. And just be thankful you're not in prison."

"So the most serious charges would be dropped, and the personal use charges are misdemeanors?" Cliff asked as he looked over his notes.

"Right, but she wouldn't receive any jail time, and the fines would be, at the most, $5,000 for each count."

"And how many counts are we talking about here?"

Burgess laughed heartily before adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose. "Who even knows? Veronica's electronic fingerprint is all over the place. Now let's see…" He flipped through a couple of papers in front of him. "Just last week she was trying to access her supervisor's computer for information on some colleagues. That's a big no-no. And a few days before that she used her computer to try and track down credit card and bank information on one…Logan Echolls." Cliff looked over to Veronica but she kept her head down even as she felt the heat from embarrassment spread across her face. But Burgess just kept reading over the evidence. "And right before that she was reading through files from a 2007 drug bust in Neptune, and then-"

"I think we've got it, Greg. The answer is…_a lot_." Cliff shook his head in disapproval while he looked Veronica over. She slid lower in her seat, shamed.

"Well we'll just say three and call it a day," he grinned.

"But the conspiracy allegation?" Cliff pressed.

"They don't have anything on that," Veronica said, speaking up. "Carter's dead, on their dime. They're not going to drag his name in the mud."

"What's it about?" Cliff asked, looking back and forth between the other attorney and his mischievous client.

"Not important," she bit, staring straight at Burgess. He sighed, looking down once more at the papers in front of him. "I think it's something we'd all like to move on from," he said.

"Fine," Cliff replied. "I'm just the defendant's attorney, what do I need to know? Veronica?" He turned in his seat to face her. "Do you want to take this deal or do you want a trial?"

She sighed softly. She did it, all of those things they said and other things they probably didn't even know about. There was no way she would be able to get off completely. "I'll take the plea bargain."

Cliff exhaled in relief as Burgess stood, offering his hand. They all shook on it and made arrangements to meet with the judge the following week. "See," Burgess asked, holding the door open for them on his way out, "this didn't have to get too messy."

"Speaking of messy," Veronica told him as they walked down the long hallway to exit the building, "I want you to thank everyone for trashing my apartment. I know you don't have to be neat with a warrant, but that was ridiculous."

"What are you talking about?" he asked with a furrowed brow. "We got everything we needed from your office. We didn't even bother with a warrant."

*******************

Logan needed to get in and out of her apartment as quickly as possible. He didn't know how long the meeting would be, but he wanted to make sure he was back at the hotel by the time she arrived.

He slung the carry-on bag over his shoulder and locked the door behind him. He was slipping the keys into the pocket of his jeans when he heard someone loudly clearing their throat in a bid to grab his attention. "You a friend of Veronica's?" someone asked. Logan turned around to find an elderly woman standing at the other end of the hall.

"You could say that."

"Can you tell her that her other friend never returned the key. I need it back soon; it was my only copy."

"What other friend?" he asked, moving toward her.

"Oh...I didn't get his name. But he came by yesterday and said that he needed to pick up some things for Veronica while she was _out_." The woman stage-whispered that last word, obviously referring to Veronica's legal troubles. "He said he forgot her key, so I thought it was okay.

"He had a badge, too," she added at the look of concern on Logan's face.

"Describe him," he said, a bit terse.

"He was about your age, but a little shorter. Dark blond hair and-"

Logan spun around and away, effectively cutting her off, but he was intent on getting back to Veronica as fast as he could.

"Hey," she called out after him, her voice no longer meek. "I want that key back! You let her know!"

***************

"Where are you?" His voice was a crackle over the phone line.

"Logan?" she asked, cradling her cell in the crook of her neck as she struggled to open her wallet to pay the cab driver.

"Where. Are. You?"

"Right outside of your hotel. Where are you?"

"Stay put. I'll be there in two minutes."

His rental car pulled next to the curb ninety seconds later, and he motioned for her to get in. She rolled her eyes but slid into the passenger seat. "What's wrong with you?"

He tightly gripped the steering wheel as he drove and she watched him with concern. "There wasn't a warrant, Veronica."

"How'd you know that?" she asked, surprised.

"Because if someone has a warrant, they don't need to make up some lame excuse to your landlord so they can try and get into your apartment, right?" At her look of confusion, he elaborated. She didn't respond after he finished, so he glanced over at her expectantly. "Well?"

"Well what?"

"It had to have been that Seth guy, right?"

"I don't know," she muttered, rubbing at her temple. It sounded like Seth, but what reason would he have for it?

Unless he wanted to dig up more dirt on her in an effort to suck up at work, she realized. God that would be just like him to do something like that. People might judge her for what she did, but Veronica knew from her year with the FBI that there were plenty of crooked agents who would throw anyone under the bus.

_Shit,_ she thought, suddenly remembering a certain box that she kept hidden underneath her bed. "Logan, we have to go back to my apartment. Now."

***************

She reached under the dust ruffle, feeling for cardboard. Nothing. "Dammit!" she yelled, standing and pushing the bed with all of her strength. Logan moved from his spot in her doorway to help her, and with his muscle it moved with ease. But there was nothing but dust bunnies underneath, and she collapsed in a heap on her mattress, panting with frustration.

"What did he take?"

She wiped at her nose, sniffling now. Everything was catching up with her and she didn't know how she would find the strength to handle it all. She was hopeless and scared and alone and-

"Veronica?"

She looked up to see Logan kneeling in front of her, eyeing her with concern. "It was a box," she whispered, out of options. "From Carter."

He looked off to the side, and even in her current state she didn't miss the hint of jealousy flash across his face.

"It's nothing like that," she said, brushing away her tears with the sleeve of her blazer. She didn't owe Logan any explanation, but for once she was tired of keeping everything in. "It was a box of files that his sister gave to me after he was taken off life support a few weeks ago."

"Files on what?"

"It's a long, complicated story."

"I'm not going anywhere," he said as he looked up into her eyes. "Are you?"

She rose from the bed and brushed past him on her way to the living room, and he moved to follow her. "Liam's never served real time. Maybe a couple of years here and there, but nothing like what he deserved. His brothers and cousins weren't always so fortunate. Do you remember that huge bust in Neptune a few years ago? When we were sophomores at Hearst?"

He smiled, nodding. "That was what put the Sorokins away." One less thing Logan had to worry about back then.

She shrugged, pointing her thumbs toward herself.

"You're kidding."

"Well it was my anonymous tip. It put the Sorokins away _and_ it landed ten out of the eleven Fitzpatricks in the clink. I'm sure you can imagine which one managed to escape scot-free." She flopped down on her couch as Logan took a seat in a nearby chair.

"How?" he asked, his elbows resting on his knees as he leaned forward, watching her.

"I have no idea. After I got back from my internship that summer, I spent almost all of my free time tracking both families. I got the names of people who worked for them, a list of businesses that were used as fronts, everything. And Liam was _all_ over it, too. I mean if they only locked up one person, it should have been him. But by the time of the bust, he was gone. And so was any evidence linking him to all of it."

Logan had stopped processing her words sometime after that part about her tracking both families. "What the fuck were you thinking, Veronica?"

Her head jerked up at the sound of his dangerously low voice. "What?"

"You could have gotten yourself killed. Do you realize that? Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?"

"Spare me the lecture, okay? _I'm_ fine. _I'm_ perfectly healthy. It's my _dad_ who's buried in the Neptune cemetery."

Logan shook his head, unable to get the images from the _what ifs_ out of his mind. How the hell did he miss it when she spent months tailing the two most dangerous families in Neptune?

"You know what? Never mind. This was a mistake. You should go now." She stood and headed toward her door, ready to see him out, but Logan didn't budge. He watched her as she waited expectantly, her foot tapping against her hardwood floor.

Like he was actually going anywhere.

"I'll never apologize for worrying about you," he told her, wringing his hands together anxiously. "But please just let me know what's going on _now_, okay? Because I still couldn't take it if anything happened to you." She didn't say anything, just stood there with her arms crossed and her head down, so he moved to approach her. Slowly and tentatively, as if she were a frightened animal and he was afraid she'd run off. His hand encircled her wrist, and it was the first time in nearly a year that he had actually touched her.

"Please?" he asked as she looked up and into his eyes.

"One of the bartenders at the River Styx testified," she said, staring straight at him. "He testified against all of them, including Liam. But I guess that wasn't enough to put him away. Liam walked."

He nodded softly, his thumb rubbing against her skin. "Go on."

"Everyone knew he was guilty too, but they couldn't do anything about it. The bartender entered witness protection. I…I lied to Carter. He had some friends at the US Marshals Service and I used him to track the bartender down. I thought maybe I could…" She pulled away from Logan, shaking her head in disgust. "I thought I could go to him and convince him to come out of hiding. I thought if I could catch Liam going after him, then maybe I could at least get him on attempted murder charges."

"Jesus," Logan breathed. "You wanted to use him as bait?"

Shamed, she diverted her eyes from his, moving out of his reach and back into the living room. "To make things even worse," she admitted, once again taking a seat on the couch, "my supervisor found out about it when they were clearing out Carter's office. LA worked with San Diego for that bust, and he remembered the case. I think he knew what I was up to, but he thought Carter was in on it, too."

"He wasn't?"

"Definitely not," she scoffed, shaking her head. "He never would have gone along with it if he knew what I was planning. At one point I was barely able to keep track of all my lies. But I had him believing I needed the info for a case we closed on awhile ago, and his friend got the bartender's new name and location."

"Did you do anything about it?" he asked, dreading her answer. He knew she was desperate, but even he hadn't expected this.

"I called him a couple weeks ago, after Carter died and I got the information in those files. I didn't ask anything of him, I just told him I was checking in. He got skittish and alerted the Marshals Service, and they traced it back to me. When Hendricks found out about it, I was investigated. And here we are."

She exhaled slowly, a weight lifted. Logan was the only person she had told. But he made his fair share of mistakes, too, and she knew he wouldn't judge her. It was comforting.

"Okay, so what happened today with the attorney? How serious are the charges?" They had been so wrapped up in the break-in that she hadn't thought to discuss the plea bargain with him, and he hadn't even asked. But now he was in full on Logan mode, ready to be there for her and take whatever action was needed. It was almost hard to believe that there was ever a time when she didn't appreciate that.

She explained the deal and the consequences. He was still concerned that the conspiracy charge would rear its head again, but she assured him that was one thing she wasn't worried about. Nobody wanted the details to leak, not when it would reflect poorly on both the FBI and the security of the WP program. And Carter had been hailed a fallen hero after he was shot. They would want to keep it that way. The plea bargain protected everyone. A trial would have been a disaster for all.

He reached over to rub her back, his hand gently tangling in her hair, and she closed her eyes at the feel of his touch. Logan's caresses either completely relaxed her or sent her heart racing. There were never any in-betweens there. Now she felt like she could curl against his side and fall asleep.

"Were you there, when Carter was shot?" he asked, still working out the knot between her shoulders.

"No. I've spent most of my time on light duty, since Dad..." she trailed off, and Logan gave her arm an encouraging squeeze. She looked over at him with a soft smile, which he returned. "Everyone thought I should be treated with kid gloves after he died. I didn't get to see much action."

"That probably drove you crazy, huh?" he grinned teasingly.

Veronica looked away, lost in thought. "I really screwed up, Logan," she said, bringing her hands to her face. "If Seth does have those files, and he puts two and two together and then it gets out?" She shook her head, growing more and more worried.

"I don't know, Veronica, that sounds like a big "if." Seth didn't strike me as somebody very good at math." He sighed, troubled by her troubles. He wished he could ease the tension for her. "How the hell did he make it through the Academy, anyway?"

She snorted in laughter. "How the hell did I make it?"

"Oh, I don't know, I'm not surprised you did well there. You were always a good student. Now the _background_ check…"

She lightly elbowed him in the ribs, but he was undeterred. "Especially after they asked me about you. I thought for sure that'd kill any chance you had."

Veronica opened her mouth in surprise, her eyes wide. "They did _not_ interview you."

"Sure they did. Toward the end of senior year." He relaxed against the arm of the couch, his long legs stretched out before him, crossed at his ankles. "I was in the library, actually studying, and this guy came up to me and flashed his badge-"

"A typical day in the life of-"

"-and he asked me what I knew about you."

She smiled and settled in her seat at the opposite end of the sofa, her feet up on the cushions now, and waited for his story. "Well, what'd you say?"

"I told him about that little strawberry shaped birthmark on your left hip, and that you had a tendency to scratch-"

She bit her bottom lip and kicked at his thigh, and he chuckled as he grabbed her foot, holding it hostage in his lap. "Be serious."

"I'm not going to tell you what I told him. It was confidential." She tilted her head to the side, blinking innocently, but he refused to give in. "C'mon, it couldn't have been that bad. You made it, right?" He massaged her bare heel and waited expectantly for her to continue pestering about his conversation with the FBI recruiter. But she stayed quiet, her mind elsewhere.

"So what should we do next?"

"About what?" she asked absently.

"Seth. Liam. Everything."

She leaned back against the cushions and closed her eyes thoughtfully. "I think I really need to get that box of files back."

"How do we do that?"

She had to admit that his insistent use of "we" versus her "I" made her feel better.

"Don't worry. I've got a plan."

*****************

"So are you going to tell me your plan now?" he asked as they walked down the hallway to Seth's apartment. Veronica had been pretty tight-lipped on the short drive over to Seth's building, but he recognized the look on her face, that set expression of determination.

"C'mon," he persisted. "What's our story for the landlord? We role-playing?"

She ignored his questions as she crouched to examine the lock. "Keep watch for anyone," she commanded, reaching for one of the bobby pins that secured her bangs away from her face.

Logan had to tear his eyes away from her as she worked quickly at the doorknob. He peered down the hall, listening for anyone, but all he heard was the sound of the lock disengaging.

"We're in," she announced proudly, holding the door open for him. He entered first, smiling as he shook his head at her ability to still impress the hell out of him.

"Well that wasn't very fun," he said, pretending to pout.

"But it was efficient." She stopped suddenly, her eyes on the coffee table in front of her where the files were stacked in different piles; the worn cardboard box they had been delivered in was on the floor.

"See?" Logan said, coming to stand beside her. "I told you he did it."

"Okay, let's get my stuff and get out of here." She started to pack everything back in the box, but Logan continued to linger around the room, his hands in his pockets as he casually explored. "Maybe we should do some digging," he suggested, opening a table drawer. "You know, try to find something on him. As insurance."

"I think we should just get out of here before I'm also charged with breaking and entering."

"What about these files of his?" he asked, pointing to the manila envelopes and expandable folders spread out on the computer desk.

"Logan, let's go."

"Briefcase?" he asked petulantly, holding it up for her to see.

"_Now_," she said, closing up her box.

He ignored her command and sat the briefcase on the desk to open it, and Veronica rolled her eyes at him but continued to gather her things. "Um, Veronica? Exactly how well does the FBI pay?"

Veronica stopped fretting with her stuff, curious enough to come stand by Logan to see what he was talking about. Her eyes widened at the sight: the briefcase was filled with wads of one hundred dollar bills, all stacked on top of each other. Thousands and thousands of dollars…

"All right, fine," she breathed, her eyes glued to the money. "Grab all of his folders."

******************

Neither felt safe returning to her apartment, so they went straight to his hotel room, where they pored over Seth's papers to search for any information that might explain the money. Most of the material was case related, though, and Veronica was growing restless.

"Do you know who Kyle Van Kirk is?" Logan asked her, his eyes roaming over a page in the weekly planner they had also confiscated.

She moved to sit next to him on the couch, leaning in close so she could read it, too. "Why?"

"He's meeting him pretty regularly. His name is down for every Friday night, seven o'clock."

"I don't know. It _sounds_ familiar, but I don't think so."

"Are you having any luck?"

"Not yet. Most of it seems to be regular paperwork, nothing too suspicious. But there's still a lot to go through."

Logan sighed, reaching for another folder. "I don't even know what I'm looking for."

"You'll know it if you see it," she replied, sliding from the couch to the floor so she could dig through more files. They were both reading over some papers when something clicked for Veronica. "Wait a second," she said, reaching for her box. She dug through the folders from Carter for the envelope of copies she had made and kept hidden at her apartment. She had a stack of papers on information from the Neptune drug bust in December 2007, the one she had helped tip off.

"I knew the name sounded familiar," she told Logan as she leafed through the documents. "Yeah. There was a Carl Van Kirk who worked with the Fitzpatricks. He was busted then, too, and is still in prison."

"You sure there's any relation?" he asked, moving to sit next to her. "It's not exactly an uncommon last name, and there's plenty of miles between LA and Neptune."

"I don't know," she admitted. She could have sworn there was more information there, so either Seth took it and hid it elsewhere or he messed up all of the files and it was mixed in with the folders from Carter. She grabbed another stack from the pile to search.

Veronica found some of the copies she was looking for in another folder, lost between some of the papers from Carter that she had never really gone through, sure it was just subsidiary information from him on cases they had worked on before. She recognized Carter's handwriting in the margins, sloppily written question marks or names she was unfamiliar with. One name did stand out, though. Jonathan Wright. He had been Seth's partner before he retired a few months before.

"What?" Logan asked her, noticing Veronica getting lost in her thoughts.

"I told Carter I was going to see if I could find any links between past drug and weapon busts and ones they were working on now. It was just an excuse to get the name of that bartender, though. But I think Carter was working on that, too." She held up the paper for Logan to see. "This isn't one of my copies. It's his."

"And?"

"And this name, Wright? He has it written all over some of these papers, along with some other names I think might be from the Bureau."

Logan was growing a bit frustrated with the trail of bread crumbs she was throwing out for him. "So they were working on these busts too? What are you thinking?"

She shook her head, the wheels still turning. "Seth was originally assigned to Miami, not LA. Then he transferred. Since he was one of the last ones put on our team, Wright was made his partner for awhile. Wright had been with the Bureau for years and he was near retirement. Which he did, a few months ago. I think he's living in Europe now or something."

"What are you getting to, Veronica?"

"You know how I said Liam always managed to get away with everything? What if it's because he had someone on the inside to warn him? Someone he paid to help him out?"

Logan took the papers from her so he could examine them himself. "You think that's where Seth got the money from? Now he's getting the payoff?"

"Couldn't it be?' she asked listlessly, digging through more files, not even sure what she was looking for. "Maybe there's a few Feds in on it, and not just for the Fitzpatricks, but for any of the organized crime families. They keep certain people out of hot water and they get a cut of their money."

"Heh," Logan said, staring at her with an admiring smile. "Sounds just devious enough to work."

She grinned back at him, absolutely beatific. "Maybe that's why my dad didn't come to me for help! Maybe he and Vinnie knew that there was someone working on the inside and he didn't want me to get involved if it might compromise a case against Liam."

Logan nodded gently, his eyes still on hers. There was another piece of the Veronica puzzle. Not only did she have to deal with losing her father, the most important person in her life, but she had been wrestling with the idea that maybe she could have prevented his death if he worked with her. God, that must have been killing her.

Suddenly the smile was wiped from Veronica's face, and Logan stared at her in confusion. "What's wrong?"

"Carter must have been on to it." She looked down at the papers clutched in her hand. "Since Wright had retired and I was on light duty, Carter and Seth were partnered up a lot. Seth was there the night he was shot."

"You think Seth might have had something to do with that?" he asked, his voice hushed.

"I don't know. Maybe? Carter might not have suspected Seth and let him in on what he knew. Or Seth could have realized that Carter was on to them. But who knows what Seth's capable of?"

"Yeah," Logan agreed, his jaw tensing. "And now he knows that you're on to them, too."

The danger wasn't something she was willing to acknowledge now. "It's Friday," she said. "We could follow Seth, let him take us to this Van Kirk guy." She stood and stretched her legs, trying to shake off the prickling sensation running down to her toes. Logan watched her as she retreated to the bedroom.

"You do realize that we have all of his papers here, right? He knows someone took them and I wouldn't be surprised if he already suspected you."

"We'll follow him and see if we can't figure more of this out." She came back into view then, walking into the main room, and Logan froze when he saw the gun in her hand.

"Veronica," he said, slowly rising to his feet.

"Relax," she told him as she loaded the chamber with bullets. "They'll take this away from me when I officially resign."

_And that was really comforting __**now**__,_ he thought. "You've had that on you the entire time?"

She clicked on the safety. "It was in the makeup bag I asked you to grab for me."

Of course it was. "I feel the need to reiterate, _again_, just how dangerous this is."

"You don't have to come if you don't want to." She looked up at him then, her eyes surprisingly soft. "But I'd really like it if you did."

The pull she always had on him was as powerful as ever, so he turned his head away from hers in an effort to stay strong, if only for her sake. "Is this…" he trailed off, choosing his words carefully. "Do you think this is what your dad would want you to do?"

"No," she admitted without missing a beat. "But if I were the one who was killed, he'd do the same. It wouldn't matter what I wanted." She stood in front of him, forcing him to look at her. "You told me once that somebody always had to pay. That that was the rule we lived by. I never realized before how true that is." He opened his mouth to say something but he didn't know what. "Logan," she pleaded, staring into his eyes. "I _need_ to do something. I can't live the rest of my life knowing that the people responsible for my father's death are off living theirs."

"What are you going to do?" he asked, his eyes on her gun.

"I…I don't _want_ to use this. Not if I don't have to. But…they need to pay."

He looked back at her, saw the raw desperation and need. He thought about what she said, about if it had been her who was killed. Keith wouldn't have been the only one out there searching for retribution. "All right," he told her, their eyes locked. "Then we'll make them pay."

*****************

"This is definitely what I would call the seedy part of town." It felt like they had been driving forever, carefully tailing Seth as he left Los Angeles, presumably to meet with Van Kirk. Veronica was at the wheel, Logan complaining half-heartedly from the passenger seat.

"It's already well after seven," she told him, glimpsing at the clock on the dashboard.

He didn't ask her if she wanted to turn around. It wasn't an option.

She kept her distance from Seth's car, which was now pulling into another back alley. There seemed to be a lot of back alleys, wherever they were.

Veronica followed, guiding the rented Hyundai through the narrow crevasse between the long stretches of seemingly abandoned buildings. She seemed more reluctant now, maybe even a little scared. The sun was starting to set. It'd be dark soon.

"Shit," she whispered, and Logan looked over to see the large black SUV pulling in and parking in front of them. He turned in his seat to check the back, and sure enough another vehicle was blocking them from behind. They drove right into the trap.

They were both holding their breaths as a group of men emerged from both cars, Seth joining them. Veronica's hand slid from the steering wheel, and Logan was about to plead with her not to go for her gun, that they were too outnumbered, but she only reached for his hand, gripping it in hers.

One of the men, dressed in a dark suit, knocked on the driver's side window and then motioned for them both to get out of the car. Logan and Veronica shared one more look before doing what they were told, her hand slipping out of his as they separated.

"Veronica Mars, I presume," the man said, guiding her to the front of the car where Logan now stood, another man at his side.

"Not smart, Veronica," Seth told her, and if looks could kill he would have already been on the ground.

"Did she go to anyone?" the man asked Seth.

"No," he answered confidently. "Not a surprise, actually. Veronica always preferred to work alone."

"She's not alone," Logan spoke up, staring Seth down.

He chuckled, looking back and forth between the two before settling on Veronica. "This is the asshole you dumped me for, right? Bad call, Veronica. You could be coming with me to my new villa in Italy. But now?" His eyes went to one of the doors they were parked near. "Well, you're not."

Seth turned to acknowledge the other men, backing away from them with a large grin. "I did my part, gentlemen, and now I've got a plane to catch. Please send my best, and let everyone know that nothing's been compromised." He waved goodbye happily, his eyes still on Veronica and Logan, and then returned to his car. Veronica watched in disbelief as he drove away.

"All right, you two. Come along. There's someone who wants to see you." They were both grabbed securely by other men and led through the door Seth had referred to before. Veronica could feel her heart beating hard against her chest, and she wondered if anyone else heard it.

Her eyes shot straight to Liam Fitzpatrick, who was leaning casually against a support beam in the middle of the large, mostly bare room. Some part of Veronica registered that it must have been another old bar, considering the run down serving area in one corner, but her thoughts were still hazy. All she could do was stare at him, her teeth gritted in anguish at his simpering and casualness.

"Ah," he grinned, straightening. "Veronica Mars, as I live and breathe. What took you so long?" He didn't give her a chance to answer, his eyes going to Logan. "And a bonus! Must be my lucky day."

"Blondie's got a gun," the man told him, pushing Veronica forward forcefully, her hands behind her back, trapped in his. He glanced over at Logan. "Someone will have to pat him down."

Logan had every reason to be scared and sure that this was the end, but he didn't feel that yet. So he slipped into jackass mode, smirking smartly as several men approached him to do the job. "Now, now, fellas, don't fight. There's plenty of me to go around." He tried to hide his grimace as the man holding on to him tightened his grip painfully, the small bones in Logan's wrists protesting the pressure. He stayed quiet as he was patted down, but he didn't give him the pleasure of removing his smile.

"Nothing," another guy said, stepping away.

"Have you figured out what you're going to do with them?" the man holding Veronica asked Liam.

"Not yet."

"Well let me make a suggestion- shoot them. And then we go. C'mon, we've got a lot of business to attend to."

"It's not that simple. She's still a Fed, and pretty boy here is a name. People will be looking for them."

"Then figure something out later. We gotta go."

The man passed Veronica over to another one of his brutes, then turned to leave. Liam looked them over once more, contemplating his options. "Lock them in the back room," he told the other guys. "I'll figure it out later."

"Wait," Veronica spoke up desperately, stopping them from moving forward. "I just need to know. Did you do it? Did you kill my dad and Vinnie?"

Liam laughed at her, his twisted grin sending her closer to the edge. "Fine, fine. I confess. I shot the sheriff." He stepped forward, leaning in close to her face, his hot breath tickling her cheek. "But I didn't shoot no deputy." He pulled back, still smiling. "I did get your father, though. Right in the eye. Don't worry, he didn't see it coming."

Veronica tried to hold back her sob, her face crumpling, and Logan's blood boiled as he watched Liam walk away after sending that final blow to her. He'd kill him. Honest to God he'd _kill_ him.

They were both led to a large storage room in the back. Logan was pushed through the door hard, and he nearly tripped over his own feet as he stumbled forward. One of the men pulled the gun from Veronica's waistband and then propelled her with equal force. They locked the door behind them, leaving her and Logan alone in the dark.

"Are you okay?" he panted, feeling for her.

He could hear her soft cries, and he reached out to touch her. He pulled her against him, cradling her to his chest as he rocked them back and forth. "Shh," he whispered, running his hand through her hair.

She started chanting, "I'm sorry," and Logan shook his head. "What? Why?"

"You shouldn't be here," she said as she slowly gathered herself together. She pushed away from him, wiping at her eyes. "I dragged you into this with me and now we're both going to die. You shouldn't be here."

"Is there anywhere else you think I would rather be?"

Her eyes were adjusting to the darkness, but she still couldn't quite make out his face. "I'm sorry," she repeated.

"Hey, this is one thing you don't have to apologize for."

"I tried looking for you," she admitted, finding solace in the black. "I couldn't do it alone anymore and I tried to track you down." She remembered poring over his bank and credit card statements for any trace of his whereabouts, but Logan did a good job disappearing when he wanted to. "Where did you go?" she finally asked.

He was still trying to wrap his head around the idea of her looking for him, after everything. She must have really been desperate, he thought. But who else did she have? Mac had called after the funeral, but they weren't still close enough for her to justify traveling across the country to be there for Veronica. Wallace had visited, but only for the ceremony. It didn't seem like she was close with anyone in the FBI. After her father's death, Veronica really was alone.

"Uh, around. Everywhere, I guess. I just did a lot of traveling." Almost ten months of vacation, hitting any beach he could think of, touring countries he hadn't visited since those miserable summers with his parents. Basically doing anything to run away from the image of Veronica that always seemed to follow him wherever he went.

"I'm sorry."

"Please stop saying that," he begged with a hint of anguish.

"I shouldn't have broken up with you before graduation," she confessed. "I shouldn't have sent you away then."

Logan decided to stand, to try and fumble around in the dark to see if there was a light switch or maybe another way out. Anything. "Don't worry about it."

"How can you say that? We were doing really good then!"

He stopped to lean against the wall, his head back. "No were weren't, Veronica. At least I wasn't. You were so wrapped up in the Academy and I was miserable at my internship. We were on two totally different tracks."

"I thought you were happy," she said softly, her hands clasped together in her lap.

"I wanted to be. But I thought things would be different across the country and they weren't, and I couldn't take that."

"What do you mean?" She remembered their tentative friendship toward the end of college, and how Logan seemed to thrive after he started an internship with a group of social workers. She never would have put together the idea of Logan and kids, but for the first time he seemed to really have something going for him there. Something outside of surfing and booze and sex.

Logan straightened, pacing the room nervously. He stopped to feel for the door, and then he shoved his shoulder against it forcefully, but it didn't budge.

"Stop!" she called out, scared. "They might have someone out there. They wouldn't think much of coming in here and just shooting us, so we have a better chance if we stay put."

Logan sighed and moved away. Fine, she could be the brains of the operation and he would be the brawn when she needed it.

"What happened in D.C?" she pressed.

He shoved his hands into his jean pockets, his shoulders sagging forward. "There was a little boy, about six. His mother was a drug addict and he was in and out of foster care, but his grandmother moved to the area so she could take him. Then the mom said she got clean and wanted him back." He moved to sit near her on the floor, careful to not actually step on her. "She was clean for two months, right? After being on drugs for over ten years, two months and the courts were satisfied. So they put him back with the mom. A month later and she's back on anything you could imagine, and she's got a new guy living with her, too. One night he's high as hell and he shoots and kills them both."

"Logan-"

"I was interning with the social worker on the case," he said with a bitter smile. "She was so jaded by that point. Told me it wasn't the first time it happened and it wouldn't be the last, but that there's only so much they can do to help. But the grandma, she _begged_ me to help her, said that she knew she couldn't trust her daughter." He shook his head. "But I didn't. I was actually trying to play by the rules so I didn't mess up my internship. And it killed him."

"You couldn't have done anything to prevent that."

"I could have listened to my instincts," he said, turning to her in the dark. "I mean, I know that it's a system and that it helps some people, and that you have to work with it for that. But it wasn't for me. All I could think about were the kids that had to pay the price because the rules didn't help them."

She nodded in understanding. "I started to think that way when I was in the FBI, too. I started to question why I was doing it." She took a deep breath and then exhaled slowly. "I thought because I was good at it, that it's what I should be doing. But…it never should have been about that. It should have been about helping the people who didn't have anyone else. That's what it was like in high school. That's what I really loved."

He watched her, barely able to make out her profile in the dark. "If we get out of this, maybe we should team up. Fight crime." He grinned when she laughed, tossing her head back. "I really am sorry, Veronica," he said, growing serious. "About leaving you. I thought Carter would be there for you. I didn't realize there wasn't anyone else."

Veronica shifted to her knees, tentatively reaching for him. "I didn't want just anyone to be there, Logan," she admitted carefully, scared by her confession but sure she didn't have anything to lose at this point. "I wanted you." She wrapped her hand around his, pulling him closer. He felt for her and rested his free hand at her waist, his fingers clutching the fabric of her blazer. "I still do," she whispered, and his lips met hers halfway.

Their noses bumped together in the dark, and he laughed against her mouth just as the tip of her tongue traced the seam of his lips. He snaked his arm around her, holding her to him as they kissed. Veronica broke away long enough to reach for the hem of his shirt, sure that if they were going to die that day, then this was something she needed to do now. He let her take it off of him, and then he fumbled for the buttons on her blouse, pulling at them clumsily just so he could feel her warm skin against his.

They didn't have enough time to go slow, but neither cared. He yanked down her pants and underwear as she worked at his zipper, and then she scrambled in his lap, her hands at his shoulders as they positioned themselves. She sank down onto him, hissing with pleasure as she wrapped her legs around his hips.

Logan searched out her mouth, kissing her blindly as he thrust upward. The adrenaline rush and the tension after such a long separation had them both almost there immediately, and Veronica dug her nails into his skin as they moved against each other.

She came first, her moans muffled against his mouth. As she sagged against him, breathless, he pumped harder, gritting his teeth before following her over the edge. She kissed him as he climaxed, her lips caressing his lazily as they both relaxed.

Veronica wanted to curl next to him and fall asleep, but they searched out their clothes in the dark and dressed, not sure when Liam would return. The initial frenzy now seemed awkward, and she didn't know what to say or do. But when Logan pulled her to him again, she realized they were fine.

They sat in silence, holding on to one another, just waiting. About twenty minutes later the lights in the room came on, and Veronica squinted at the brightness until her eyes adjusted. The sudden sound of gunshots made them both jump, and she clung to him wordlessly as they waited. Her grip on him tightened as the doorknob turned.

"Change of plans, kiddies," Liam announced, standing in the doorway as he pointed the gun at them. "Get out here." He motioned to the hallway with his pistol, and so they both stood slowly. Logan pushed Veronica in front of him when he realized that Liam would be behind them with the gun, and he tried to soothe her with a comforting arm squeeze.

The bodies of the four men from earlier were sprawled across the floor. Veronica stared down at them with an open mouth and wide eyes.

"Seems there was a Mexican standoff here, and everyone lost," Liam said. "But maybe you'll both be remembered as heroes when everyone finds out you took care of a couple mob-"

Logan spun around quickly, using the element of surprise and every ounce of his strength to knock Liam off balance. His fist connected with Liam's jaw, and he staggered backwards, the gun in his hand falling to the floor.

Veronica reached for it, but Liam coming at Logan blocked her from it. They tussled together, fists flying back and forth. She looked down at the bodies, saw that her gun was still in the hand of the man who took it from her, and she grabbed at it. She had it fully loaded before they left, but she didn't know if the man had gotten any shots off. Probably not, she reasoned. Sharpshooter Liam had likely surprised them all.

She held it out in front of her and aimed, and suddenly it felt as if everyone was moving in slow motion. Her thoughts had to have been racing at a million miles per hour, but it was like she was moving through a dream, and all she could think about was her first week as a Fed, to that first and last time she had discharged her weapon anywhere but the range. She remembered that day, with Callie Farmer staring back at her with terrified eyes as the blade dug into her skin. Veronica had tried to think of everything she had learned, but it all went out the window at the moment. As the knife slid across Callie's throat, Veronica fired.

The killer was dead, but she wasn't able to save Callie. She wasn't going to let anything happen to Logan now though.

She watched as Logan hunched over, driving at Liam's midsection to try and pin him against the wall. She didn't have time to waste. Two quick shots at Liam's head, one right in his eye. Logan fell back on the floor, panting and bloodied from the fight. He looked over at her, slack jawed. All she could think was, "Eye for an eye," and she bent over, laughing and crying and shaking.

~~Two Weeks Later~~

Cliff parked in the spot next to Veronica's car, tilting his head as he watched Logan load some boxes into the backseat. "Leaving already?" he called, emerging from his vehicle. Veronica moved around the back of her Saturn, smiling brightly.

"Hey, thanks for coming by. I know it was on short notice."

"Where are you two going?" he asked, examining the luggage at their feet.

"We're taking off for awhile," Logan answered as he shut the door. "Maybe we'll visit some beaches, or go to Paris."

"Or tour some Italian villas," Veronica broke in, and then the two shared another look that Cliff was helpless to understand. But at least Veronica was smiling again.

"Well, I guess you'll be happy to hear that I got them to drop all of the charges against you," Cliff told her. "Considering the circumstances and all. So at least you won't be violating your probation."

"I just wanted to thank you," she said, standing before him. "For everything."

"Are you going to be gone for long?"

"Maybe. But we'll be back eventually." She reached up to hug him, and Cliff froze for a moment before returning the embrace. "Thanks," she whispered against him, and dammit if Cliff didn't feel his throat tightening.

"Your dad would be real proud of you, Veronica," he told her, forcing away any hint of emotion. "I know that for sure."

She stepped back, nodding. "Thanks."

"So Europe, huh?" he asked, leaning against her car as Logan put away the last of their bags in the back. "I'm a tropical island guy, myself. But c'est la vie." He looked over at Veronica with a raised brow. "That's French, kid. You'll need to know that if you're going to Paris."

She grinned at him as Logan finished up. "We have to head out now, Veronica," he told her, and she said goodbye to Cliff one last time before getting in the car. Logan offered the lawyer his hand, which Cliff stared down at for a minute before accepting.

"Everyone deserves a vacation, Cliff," he said with a smirk, and then pulled an envelope out of his back pocket. "Really, thanks. For everything."

Cliff watched as Logan climbed into the driver's seat, and both waved as they pulled away, riding off together in the sunset.

He looked down at the envelope in his hand, and he tore it open once they were out of sight. A nice amount of cash and a ticket to the Caribbean. All expenses paid, the card noted, with "For services rendered" written underneath. Cliff smiled to himself, slapping the card against his hand as he walked back to his car.

Maybe he would ride off into the sunset, too.


End file.
